


Care and Feeding of a Padawan Learner: A Guide to Obi-Wan Kenobi by Qui-Gon Jinn (and utilized by Marshall Commander Cody)

by Knitwritezombie (Missa_G)



Series: Care and Feeding 'Verse [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety, Cody is a Good Bro, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Force Visions, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Vomiting, clone culture, migraines, semi-gratuitous use of Mando'a
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 08:08:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24966499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missa_G/pseuds/Knitwritezombie
Summary: A 5+1 fic. Five times Cody uses notes from Qui-Gon to look after Obi-Wan, and one thing Cody learns on his own.Anakin finds an old file of Qui-Gon’s which details notes on the care and feeding of Obi-Wan Kenobi. Anakin passes the intel to Cody because Obi-Wan wasn’t meant to be fighting a war.Anakin may have thrived on fighting a war, but Obi-Wan, for all he was good at it, did not. Cody puts the intel to good use.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Clone Troopers
Series: Care and Feeding 'Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956823
Comments: 79
Kudos: 744





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Care of Obi-Wan 101](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12218535) by [SWModdy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SWModdy/pseuds/SWModdy). 



> Tagging is kind of new to me, so if I've missed something that you feel needs to be tagged, please let me know. 
> 
> Thank you to katherine_tag for the beta. 
> 
> Mando'a translations from mandoa.org, and my best guesses about how phrases would be put together where sentences weren't already created. I did my best to include context for each use, and translations will be found at the end of each chapter.

The old datapad had been spare in the study, and Anakin had grabbed it, figuring it wouldn’t be missed if anything happened to it in the field. He hadn’t bothered to check if it was blank or to do a precursory wipe when he’d been all but dragged out by his former Master and current Padawan for saber training.

With half an eye on Ahsoka and Obi-Wan, Anakin flicked quickly through the files on the ‘pad, seeing some of the information he’d been intending to download mixed in with random information.

The ‘pad had apparently been used last by Qui-Gon - Anakin grinned at some of the awkward teenage holos of Obi-Wan, but bypassed what turned out to be half-written mission reports.

But one file caught his eye - Padawan 101.

Anakin glanced up and found Obi-Wan and Ahsoka engaged with each other and paying him no attention, so he clicked the file open.

The originating date of the file was almost 22 years previous, though the most recent update was a date Anakin recognized - the day they’d left to return to Naboo, when the Council had said he wouldn’t be trained but then sent him off to follow after Qui-Gon. Days later and Qui-Gon was dead and Anakin was apprenticed to freshly knighted Obi-Wan.

> _I should have started this document when I first took Obi-Wan as my apprentice, but recent events have made it apparent that I should take some precautions should Obi-Wan’s training be overseen by another Master._
> 
> _This is rather informal - my observations and notes about how to best look after my Padawan. Force forbid, if something happens to me, this might help make the transition easier for both apprentice and new master._
> 
> _I’ve started with notes based on our first three years together - I plan to update this as we go along._

Intrigued, Anakin started reading through the notes, watching as they were refined and linked together by common theme over the years as Qui-Gon made new observations and discoveries. With a grin, he copied the document over to his own files. He knew that Cody would find it invaluable.


	2. Obi-Wan Kenobi has Anxiety

> _ Obi-Wan is of an anxious sort; ensure he has morning meditation if possible and joined meditation.  _

> _ At first, I thought the anxiety was as a result of his being passed over for Choosing, and of the way our pairing began. But even as we resettled into a routine and partnership after Melida/Daan, Obi-Wan never seemed to. In fact, in some ways, the visible signs of anxiety (edited: in OW, insomnia, hypervigilance, restlessness (really, an inability to sit still, thank the Force for katas and saber drills), and an increase in visions) seemed to grow. I can only attribute this to his status and his own innate drive for excellence.  _

> _ Morning meditation helps to focus and calm him. Shared meditation helps him see the greater balance, as he is still largely focused (talented? -the frequency and intensity of his visions suggest this) in the Unifying Force rather than the Living Force. _

> _ Where possible, set aside at least 30 minutes for meditation every morning. Before food. But make sure he eats. _

> _ [edit] I have no idea why it took me so long to think of it, but moving meditations also help when Obi-Wan is feeling restless. The effort to quiet his mind and focus on his body seems to provide the right amount of balance to restore his focus when needed. These have been useful when we are in transit without enough room to properly spar, but can work through some of the more basic forms. _

> _ [edit2] While OW still benefits from morning meditation, the increase in our mission frequency has made this more difficult to do routinely. As he’s grown up, he has seemed to find more internal balance, and while he seems steadier after morning meditation, it no longer seems to be such a necessary part of his morning routine; at least, it is something that he can forego for some days as needed without the obvious signs from his teens returning (or he’s gotten better at hiding them). Kata meditation, however, does seem to be his go-to. _

> _ [edit3] I fear I have made a mistake. For all that I know that Anakin must be trained, I could have chosen my words more carefully. We are due to leave in the morning to return the Queen to Naboo. OW has refused shared meditation, but I can sense his struggle. Hopefully he will manage on his own; if we are to advise the Queen, we shall need to be focused. And there is Anakin.  _

* * *

One of the first things that Shinies learned when they were assigned to the 212th, was that, barring a campaign or other emergency, the General was not to be disturbed between 0700 and 0800. It was part of the introductory briefing given to the new troops, along with information such as how to barter parts of meal kits (and which parts no one would give them shit for hoarding), why they should never piss off the medics, and that under no circumstances should anyone use the fresher on the forward ten deck (there wasn’t anything wrong with it, but the Shinies didn’t need to know about the still until after they were no longer shiny). 

For all that the  _ vode _ were commissioned to serve the Jedi as an army, the Jedi had not been all that prepared to fight a war. While General Kenobi had a keen mind for strategy and tactics, it was clear that he was used to working alone or as part of a small group, and that he had been thrust into a role he wasn’t totally comfortable with. Cody had watched as the General had maintained his composure throughout their first campaigns, but had been aware of a certain level of flailing that the Jedi had done well to conceal. 

It had started with a tendency toward insomnia, and then Cody had started to notice the restlessness and the periods of hypervigilance. Kenobi would pace during briefings, though he was careful to tuck his hands away in the sleeves of his robe if he wasn’t wearing armor, though the stroking of his beard could often be a tell of his mental state. As part of their training to work with and serve the Jedi on Kamino, Cody had been given an overview in the ways the Jedi used the Force. He could see when Kenobi was slightly overwhelmed by the promptings he received, as well as generally overstimulated by the activity around him; Kenobi hid it well, but there were times Cody caught glimpses of the General’s eyes darting about as he sought visual confirmation of something or needed to check something before he could dismiss it to focus. 

Cody noted that his General seemed more settled when they were in transit; while they both still had duties while ship-board, the decreased risk of imminent danger (as well as their lowered responsibility to respond to it) allowed them a measure of relaxation. At first, Cody had attributed it to post-battle carry-over - Shinies sometimes had the same problems letting down their battle awareness and coming off the adrenaline rush. But rather than getting used to it after several battles the way the new troopers did (when they went from being Shiny to being offered a tin of paint and told to customize their armor), with the General, it only got worse. 

Then had come the file from General Skywalker, a couple of days after Cody had had to get the General out of bed in the middle of third shift to deal with some urgent Council business, only to find him down in one of the gyms doing katas without his lightsaber, his eyes closed and a furrow to his brow Cody was more used to seeing during planning and strategy sessions when General Skywalker laid out a plan that was more or less “trust me.”

So Cody had spread the word, quietly, amongst his captains and lieutenants, and the word filtered down through the troops, until it became part of the brief for new troops, that whenever and wherever possible, General Kenobi was to be undisturbed for an hour every morning. The General never asked about it, but it hadn’t taken long for Kenobi to regain a sense of equilibrium in the week or so that followed. It had become part of Cody’s routine to grab breakfast for them both from the mess, before meeting the General to start their morning briefing in Kenobi’s quarters shortly after 0800. Whether or not the General actually used the time to meditate, Cody didn’t know - but overall, Kenobi seemed better for the hour of uninterrupted time. 

Unfortunately, sometimes interruptions were a necessity. Dressed in a slightly worn set of blacks and training shoes rather than boots, Cody rang the chime at the General’s quarters on his way to the training rooms at 0714. 

The door slid open and Cody stepped over the threshold, catching sight of his General seemingly mid-pace between the small meeting table crammed against the wall opposite his desk, and the small corner unit holding the kettle, clean mugs, and a stash of hot drink mixes. 

  
The General was in socks, his trousers, and an undertunic - his belt and ‘saber lay on the table amongst a pile of datapads, flimsi, and his gauntlets. “Tea or caff?” he offered as the kettle clicked off in its dock. 

“Neither, sir, I’m on my way to the rec,” Cody responded, spying the General’s boots kicked under the table and the door that led to his private sleeping chambers and ‘fresher was slightly ajar. A glance confirmed that, yes, one of the shoulder pauldrons Cody had finally convinced him to wear was wedging the space open, likely laying where it had fallen when it had been taken off. “Apologies for interrupting your morning, General.”

“It’s no trouble, Cody. Anything urgent?” Kenobi looked tired. It didn’t look like he’d slept in the few hours they’d been back aboard, and his hair looked as if he’d been running his fingers through it. The general state of his quarters was reflective of the General’s mental state; Cody could see the rest of Kenobi’s standard Jedi garb thrown carelessly over the back of a chair, tossed aside like the rest of what Cody could observe.

“No, sir, just some things I needed to pass along before we meet at 1400,” he said, handing over the datapads. “Reports from Ghost, Draigon, and Shonar Companies for your inclusion in the AAR, as well as final casualty lists, munitions report, and supply status.”

Kenobi took the ‘pads and placed them on the table with the others. “Anything else?”

“No, sir. I’ll handle everything else and have everything compiled for this afternoon.” He paused before continuing. “If I may, sir?” he asked, a little hesitant. Kenobi had never minded his personal input before, but what he was about to suggest may cross the line, even for them. 

“Hm?” Kenobi looked up from where he was preparing a cup of tea. “Of course, Cody.”

“Some of the troopers have taken it upon themselves to organize classes and such for when we’re in transit,” he began. They could only do so much blaster practice and weight training, and bored troopers were destructive troopers. “Tacks and Smalls are running a yoga class later this morning, sir, and they wanted to make sure you knew that you were welcome.” 

“Thank you, Commander. I’ll consider it,” the General responded politely, which from a brother would mean it’d be a hot day on Hoth before they showed their face. But with Kenobi, sometimes it could be difficult to tell. Though he knew Kenobi tended to fall back on formality when he was uncomfortable, and the use of Cody’s rank, rather than name, was telling.

“Of course, sir.” Cody decided that was enough for the moment, but he’d ‘accidentally’ send the General a link to the 212th intranet page where the men organized such things. “I’ll see you at 1400.” 

“Yes, thank you, Commander,” Kenobi said absently, reaching for one of the many datapads on the table as Cody took his leave. 

On his way out, he debated assigning someone to bring Kenobi breakfast, trying to judge based on what he’d just seen and what he knew about the General whether or not the man would actually eat. Cody knew there were ration bars tucked away in the General’s desk and utility belt and decided to let it go as he continued on to the training rooms. 

After his workout and breakfast, Cody settled himself at the desk in his closet of an office (unlike the General’s, his office was not affixed to his bunk, which Cody was actually glad of) and started working through his share of the paperwork from the campaign they’d just completed and the ongoing bureaucracy of running a legion of over 36,000 men. Thankfully, someone else was in charge of the  _ Negotiator’s _ crew. 

Discipline reports. Requisition requests. Daily reports from Medical. His own after action report. An incident report from one of the shinies slicing his hand open while on KP, what the hell, Salt? Intelligence Reports - he should have taken that one to the General. Response to a Request for Information from a holo reporter - nope, that one got shuffled back to the bottom of the pile. 

Cody worked steadily for a couple of hours before he needed to get up and stretch. And caff. He needed so much caff. He headed for the mess; there was always caff, but it had the added benefit of being on the same path as training room 98, where Tacks and Smalls were holding their class. Cody told himself he was not checking up on the General as he slipped unobtrusively inside. 

The class was well attended by brothers dressed in a variety of workout blacks, some with full sleeves and legs, others with cut off shorts or tanks, displaying a variety of ink individualizing the countless identical bodies, as well as unique hair colors and styles. 

In the far corner, a lone figure dressed in brown rather than black stood out. Kenobi’s eyes were closed as he moved along with the instructions delivered by Tacks as Smalls wandered the room helping brothers with form where they needed it. Curiosity satisfied, Cody ducked back out and resumed his quest for caff before returning to his paperwork. 

When Cody arrived at the meeting that afternoon, he found the General looking much more the immaculate Jedi than he had that morning. He wasn’t wearing his minimal armor, but that wasn’t unusual when they weren’t actively engaged in combat, and his clothes looked far less rumpled.    
  
Kenobi glanced up from the datapad he was working on when Cody entered, and the shadows under his eyes looked less prominent, “Good afternoon, Cody,” he said. 

“General,” Cody said with a nod. “Did you see the intelligence update from General Windu?”

“I did. I have to say if the report is accurate, I’m not quite sure what to make of it. I cannot think of a single resource in that system that would be useful to the Separatists. Or to the Republic, for that matter,” Kenobi said thoughtfully. 

“It’s on the Outer Rim, bordering on Wild Space. They could have found something out there,” Cody responded. “Easy enough to send doids or even unmanned ships out to scan for certain parameters.”

“Good point,” the General answered. “I’m sure the Council or the Senate will send someone to investigate the report.” Kenobi sat back in his chair and reached the cup that would have been at his elbow when he was leaned over the table. He frowned when he lifted it and found it empty. 

“I was going to get a caff before we started, sir. Can I bring you back something?” Cody offered.

“Thank you, no, Cody, I can go. I’ve been sat here long enough and could use the stretch. Black, yes?” 

Cody could fight the raise of his eyebrows, but something told him not to protest. “Yes, sir, thank you, sir.” He blinked as Kenobi rapped his knuckles against Cody’s shoulder pauldron as he passed - it was a gesture of acknowledgement amongst the brothers, an unverbalized recognition of another’s presence. 

Cody took his seat at the table as the door swooshed shut behind the General, and began preparing his notes for the strategy meeting with the other Commanders and High Generals. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vode = brothers (plural of vod)


	3. Obi-Wan Kenobi Struggles with Disordered Eating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for general disordered eating, though I don't think there's anything explicit. Please let me know if I need to revise or add to the tags.

> _ Obi-Wan will grow nauseous if he does not eat in the morning. Meditate, then eat; ensure he eats ANYTHING even if it's just protein cubes while on missions or he will not eat well the rest of the day.  _
> 
> _ I noticed this soon after he became my apprentice; it seems to be part of his disposition, combined with the tendency toward anxiety. However, it seems to have worsened since his time on Melida/Daan. Given that he was aligned with The Young, he likely sacrificed for those who had less or none. It’s a very Jedi thing to do, yet there is a reason we don’t teach certain Force techniques until Padawans have achieved Senior status. If he has figured out how to sustain himself on the Force, which is likely the case, I fear he may have created some bad habits that may prove hard to break. Note to self: find a way to bring this up and ensure that he’s at least doing it correctly. _
> 
> _ [edit] preferred snacks: nuts, dried fruit, nut-butter crackers, and ration bars in a pinch. Prefers tea straight, but will accept heavily honeyed in lieu of a meal or snack. Cinnamon candies are a favorite; he prefers hard candies over chewy ones. Avoid jerky, pastries, or anything that requires utensils unless safe and stationary. _
> 
> _ [edit2] He burns too many calories for what he regularly consumes, and the healers have been concerned that he’s borderline underweight when we return from missions, though when we have time in residence, it’s easier to make him eat and regain weight and muscle mass. Frequent smaller meals seem to be the better path. _
> 
> _ [edit3] allergic to qualla berries. Hives. _
> 
> _ [edit4] NO HOI BROTH -AS [link to mission report] _

* * *

Cody noticed early on in his assignment to General Kenobi that the man would not often break for meals, but could be fairly well relied on to eat what was set in front of him, especially when he was working. In the field, this wasn’t a problem, since he ate with everyone else from meal packs or ration bars (they rarely bothered with field kitchens). But when they were shipboard, it could be a problem, as Kenobi was not only assisting with training Skywalker’s Commander, but also an active member of the Jedi Council, on top of co-commanding the 7th Sky Corps. Sometimes, it seemed, that Kenobi considered meals themselves a waste of time, but if he could combine eating with another task, he could be relied upon to eat what was given to him. 

They had a daily briefing at 0800, and Cody made it his habit to bring breakfast from the mess for himself and the General; Kenobi provided tea or caff from the small station in the corner of his office, and it assured Cody that Kenobi was getting at least one meal per day. 

This practice turned into the “Has Kenobi Been Fed Today?” chart that ended up in the 212th’s Officer’s Lounge. It had started as a joke by Waxer and Boil. Cody had been trapped in Medical, and he’d requested of his officers that, whoever was doing the briefing while he was unavailable, also take breakfast for the General. When he’d returned to duty later that week, arm in a sling and a brace on his knee, Cody’d found the chart with a mix of symbols representing various officers, mostly stylized after the personalizations on their armor. To his surprise, it was filled in for multiple times throughout the day for the three days Honeycutt had been able to keep him in Medical by threatening to sedate him.

Cody had known that his command officers would comply with his request, but not to that extent. Kenobi was respected, and more importantly, well liked, by his troops. Their casualty rates were below average compared to other regiments, and Kenobi had earned their respect by treating them as individuals, learning and  _ remembering _ their names, not just their designations, and leading from the front, as much as Cody and the other officers sometimes wished he wouldn’t. The clones were replaceable; the Jedi were not, and so far, no one had been able to convince the General of that. So since they couldn’t keep him from rushing headlong into a fight, ‘saber blazing, it didn’t surprise Cody that they had found another way to make sure their Jedi was being looked after. 

When Cody returned to full duty, he resumed taking breakfast to the General for their morning meetings. He hadn’t expected the chart to stay in use, or for the bulk of the officers of the 212th to get on board. 

It had started, as so many things seemed to, with Waxer and/or Boil ‘bumping into’ the General and inviting him along for whatever meal was appropriate for the time of day. Usually, Kenobi was too polite to outright refuse unless he had a conflict (though somehow the Lieutenants seemed to know and never tried on those days), and Cody had found him more than once sitting in the mess alone, amongst a stack of data pads that seemed to randomly multiply, with an empty tray and a cup of tea at his elbow after his dining companions had returned to their duties. 

That seemed to turn it into a type of competition to see who could fill in the most boxes per week. Cody, wisely, maintained plausible deniability. If there was a weekly or monthly prize, he didn’t know about it, and he didn’t want to (his brothers could and would bet on just about anything). 

This led to an increasingly complex series of schemes and plots to either get food in front of the General, or to get him into the mess whenever they were onboard the  _ Negotiator _ . The bet seemed to be, by general consensus, suspended when they were on a mission or in a battle.

One thing was that Ghost Company, Cody’s direct unit, and therefore the one that spent the most time with the General in the field, started carrying some of the General’s preferred snacks amongst their gear. This way, any trooper was always prepared to make their mark for the day. Alongside Waxer’s candy-coated chocolates, he always had a couple of hard cinnamon candies. Boil’s jerky was packaged next to small packets of fruit and nut mixes. Cody himself always stashed a couple of extra packets of tea, and made a point to barter with his men for the honey sticks that were sometimes included in their meal kits alongside the other condiments.They all tucked an extra ration bar or two into their kits.

Honeycutt took the most direct route. The medic was a firm believer that as medic, especially as chief medic for the unit, he outranked everyone, including Cody and especially General Kenobi. Honeycutt would just hand the General a ration bar and stare at him until the Jedi unwrapped it and took a bite. It was a trick that worked well enough - the rest of the bar would generally be gone in an hour, especially if Kenobi were in the middle of another task. 

Wooley took the opportunity to practice his sleight of hand. He once managed to sneak a sandwich made from components available at the mid-day meal in the mess into one of Kenobi’s pockets. Cody suspected that more often than not, the General humored Wooley’s attempts. It was kriffing hard to sneak up on a Jedi, let alone one that spent so much time on the battlefield and had the reflexes to prove it.

One enterprising junior lieutenant attempted to slice into the General’s diary and reserve meal times. That had been met with abject failure, as Kenobi just ignored the blocked time and moved on to his next task. 

The General looked quietly amused by the whole thing, whenever one of his troopers quietly passed him a candy, or dropped a packet of crackers at his elbow while passing by during a briefing. Tea was always appreciated, they quickly learned, as long as there was time to enjoy it.

There were times, however, when Cody would wave off his troopers, knowing that Kenobi truly wasn’t interested in eating and not just being so focused he forgot. Those were usually the times where his accent grew thicker, the lines around his eyes got a little deeper, and he seemed extra irritated by everything around him. Cody never pushed the General about it, but he would let the troopers know later it wasn’t personal.

Late one night, unable to sleep, Cody found himself in the mess. He didn’t want to toss and turn in his bunk, but he didn’t want to disrupt anyone else’s rest by seeking out company, so the mess seemed the best option for passive company. He had gathered some past-due paperwork from his office, and set up in a corner of the mess hall with a cup of caff. The mess wasn’t busy, but it was never closed, so even the noise of those working in the galley or who were on the 3rd shift serving stations was a welcome bit of background that made Cody feel less isolated. 

He’d finished two reports when a fresh cup of caff and a slice of toasted bread with nut butter was placed in front of him. Cody looked up as the General took the seat opposite, his own plate and cup balanced in his other hand. “Couldn’t sleep, General?” Cody asked, setting his work aside. 

“I needed a snack,” Kenobi answered. 

Cody hummed, reaching for the caff. 

“So, who gets credit if I feed myself?” the General asked innocently while Cody was mid sip. 

He spluttered, choking on his drink, while Kenobi just grinned smugly. “Sir?” Cody asked once he’d swallowed. 

“Anakin let it slip. He found out from Rex,” the General answered, tearing a piece off his toast. 

“I can order them to stop,” Cody offered as Kenobi popped the piece of toast into his mouth. 

The General waved off the offer, swallowing. “Let them have their fun, Cody. They’re not harming anyone. But do let me know if it starts to become a problem.” 

  
Cody nodded. “Yes, sir.” Cody knew the General was aware of how competitive the troopers could be, especially amongst those they were closest to. As long as it remained light hearted fun at the expense of Kenobi, it wouldn’t be a problem. 

Kenobi nodded and stood, taking his tea with him, but sliding the other plate of toast toward Cody. “Good night, Cody.”

“Good night, sir,” Cody responded. As the General left, Cody turned back to his paperwork. 

Despite the caff, the paperwork had done its job of being mind-numbingly boring, and his eyes started to feel heavy after another couple of reports. On his way back to his bunk, Cody stopped at the Officer’s Lounge. 

To the chart, he added a new column, Midnight Snack, and filled in the current day’s box with a symbol he hoped was recognizable as a lightsaber. They had the General’s tacit permission; Cody may as well make it a real challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me at tumblr: https://knitwritezombie.tumblr.com/


	4. Obi-Wan Kenobi is Not a Quitter

> _ Obi-Wan is driven to succeed, and as such, will do whatever is necessary to ensure a task is completed. This can be something as small as mastering the way I take my tea (completely unnecessary but appreciated), to hiding the extent of injury or illness while on a mission. I have caught him several times after lights out continuing to work on assignments that were already adequately completed, or revising ones he was not satisfied with.  _
> 
> _ He takes his duties very seriously, and will put himself at risk if it means minimizing the risk to others, particularly those who have been assigned under his charge or care. This is normally a desirable trait in a Jedi, but his willingness to sacrifice himself, combined with his reluctance to admit to injury, is troubling, and something we should speak about. I am concerned that this may point to some deeper pathology, especially given how easily he was ready to sacrifice himself for me on Bandomeer.  _
> 
> _ [edit] Obi-Wan is susceptible to migraines, particularly after periods of overwork. If left untreated, will escalate to a fever. Warning signs for Obi-Wan include a type of aphasia, manifesting as a change in accent or language without conscious thought, and general irritability, as well as a more pronounced lack of appetite. Based on my observations, warning signs appear anywhere from 4 to 24 hours in advance. He has been prescribed medication to treat them.  _
> 
> _ [edit2] When Obi-Wan says he doesn’t feel well,  _ believe him _. It is outside his nature to lie about illness to get out of a task, and if he feels bad enough to admit it, he means it. He tends only to conceal physical ailments when taking time to care for them would interfere with a larger goal or mission.  _
> 
> _ [edit2.5] he has been informed that it is appropriate to miss class when ill, and he should not be attending tumbling classes with a broken collarbone, for the love of... _
> 
> _ [edit3] Sweet Force, but he will fuss. Obi-Wan’s talents do not lie with the living force, nor truly with healing, but he has a natural bedside manner and is highly empathetic. When I’m feeling better, I need to see if the healers offer any courses that he might benefit from. _

* * *

“General,” Cody said with a sniffle before clearing his throat. “Report coming in from General Skywalker.” He coughed softly into his elbow.

“Thank you, Cody,” Kenobi’s voice was hoarse and tired, his breathing labored. The General’s eyes were glassy with fever, his skin pale, except for the bright spots that showed just beyond the untrimmed growth of beard and dark smudges of exhaustion under his eyes. He moved like a much older man, one arm wrapped around his chest for support as the wracking coughs left him breathless and sore. 

They’d been on planet for three weeks, and all of them were hurt, sick, or some combination of the two. The General had contracted pneumonia, best Honeycutt could figure, from aspirating contaminated water. They had used a waterfall for cover to access the hidden tunnels intelligence said would lead to the civilians they were to evacuate. The clone troops had been protected by the filters in their helmets.

They’d gotten the civilians out and then rendezvoused with Rex and Skywalker leading Torrent to continue the assault while Commander Tano accompanied the refugees to the  _ Negotiator _ and then on to Alderaan. 

That had been two and a half weeks ago. Somehow, the Separatists had been able to predict each attack as the combined forces tried to gain ground. 

Half of the troopers had contracted a respiratory illness from the civilians they’d evacuated. Most had recovered, but were still feeling the effects, largely lingering lethargy and annoying coughs. Unfortunately, Cody seemed to have developed a resultant sinus infection as well as a fractured ankle that he was treating with bacta wraps and the use of a long sturdy stick. Their supply of decongestants, antibiotics, and a good portion of analgesics had run out after treating the civilians, and Honeycutt and Kix from Torrent were rationing what was left to keep as many of them functional as possible.

But the General was by far in the worst shape, and there was nothing really they could do about it. There was no one to relieve them, and the Senate and Jedi Council deemed the base too important to abandon the campaign completely. They’d barely gotten the civilians off on the LAATs, by once again using the ground forces as a distraction from the fleeing troop transports. With them clear, the Generals felt it was too big of a risk to withdraw, since they’d have to call new transports down from the  _ Resolute _ , risking the lives of more troopers with little chance of a successful withdrawal until they could take out the anti-aircraft weapons. 

“Anakin,” Kenobi said softly when the figure materialized on the holotable. 

“Master,” Skywalker answered. “I don’t have very good news.” Even Skywalker seemed tired over the projection. “We’ve found their perimeter, but there is no avenue of concealed approach. I was able to get close with a ‘see-me-not,’ but there’s no way we could get a squad close enough to take out those guns.” 

Kenobi turned away from the projection as his breath caught and Cody quickly muted their end of the conversation, giving Skywalker a quick shake of the head at his inquiring look (which really didn’t help the throbbing behind his cheekbones and in the scar around his eye of all places). When the General got his breath back, Cody unmuted the signal. 

“How many guns?” Kenobi asked, resting his chin on his hand, his eyes half closed. 

Cody really didn’t like where this was going, but he knew their options were limited. 

“Six. Each fortified with a complement of droids.” The projection of Anakin frowned. “Master, you can’t be thinking-”

“I’m thinking it’s the only way any of us are going to get off this planet to regroup,” Kenobi cut him off. 

“Can the two of you do all six before the others catch on?” Cody asked. 

“Maybe,” Kenobi answered thoughtfully. 

“What are you thinking, Master?” Skywalker asked. 

“Return to base, Anakin. I have an idea, but we’ll need to plan.” 

“Yes, Master. We’ll be back before nightfall.” The signal blinked out. 

“Sir,” Cody said, swallowing against his own sore throat. “You should get some rest before Skywalker returns.” 

It was a testament to how worn down he was that Kenobi simply nodded. “If I haven’t already, wake me in four hours, Cody.” 

“Sir,” Cody acknowledged, and Kenobi ducked through the flap at the back of the command tent where his cot was set up. 

Cody finished the report he had been in the middle of when Skywalker had commed, and went to check on his men and ensure the watch duty was being appropriately divided amongst the troops. He and Rex had organized short watch rotations, mostly to accommodate the members of the 212th, though Rex had insisted that no one in Torrent would complain about taking up the load for their wounded and recovering brothers, though by this point, they were feeling as worn down as everyone else. 

Duties seen to, Cody found himself in the mess tent breathing the steam of a heavily honeyed cup of tea. He was so congested he couldn’t smell it, but the steam felt good against his face, and the hot sweet liquid was soothing on his throat. His head ached and he was tired, not to mention the throbbing in time with his heartbeat in his ankle. He knew he should be getting some rest as well, but Cody also knew, based on experience, that the minute he lay down and try to rest, some emergency would crop up. Better let the General rest for now. 

**

“Here’s what I propose,” Kenobi said softly, pulling up the map on the holotable for Rex, Cody, and Skywalker. He zoomed in on the first two positions of anti-aircraft weaponry. “Two squads, volunteers only, mount a frontal assault on these two positions.” He paused to cough into the sleeve of his robe. “That assault works as a distraction while Anakin and I sneak around and disable the guns.”

“I see a couple of problems with that plan,” Rex grumbled. “First off being that you’re not likely to be able to sneak anywhere the way you sound, General. Sir.” The statement was gruff, but that was Rex. “Secondly, how do we keep them from letting the other four know what’s happening?”

“Let me worry about the first problem,” Kenobi answered. “As for the second, we need to figure out a way to disable their communications, not jamm them.”

Skywalker nodded. “A jamm would just let them know something was happening. It would need to look like equipment failure.”

“I’ll get Echo on it. Cody, who can you pair him up with?” Rex asked. 

“Kabe,” Cody answered. He’d caved to Honeycutt’s demands and was sitting on an empty ammo box, his foot propped up on another. “Third problem, what about the other four guns?”

The map rotated and zoomed back out, showing the entire fortification. “If we take out these two,” Kenobi explained, circles appearing on their targets. “This will give the Resolute and the LAAT pilots a very narrow window where they will be out of the range of the other guns. While we take out the guns, the rest of you will move to this position.” An X appeared on the map. “This will be the LZ.”

“It could work,” Skywalker said thoughtfully. “Are you sure about this, Master?”

“How long do you think Echo and Kabe will need to come up with a solution to the comms?” General Kenobi asked Cody and Rex instead of answering Skywalker. 

“Probably a couple of hours,” Rex said, though the end of the statement rose slightly like a question. “I need to present the problem to them, first.” 

Kenobi nodded, coughing into his elbow again. “Give me a timeline so we can coordinate with Yularen on the  _ Resolute _ . I’ll be ready to go by then. Cody, see about putting together a group we can brief and ask for volunteers.”

Cody had a feeling neither he nor Honeycutt was going to like whatever Kenobi came up with to be ready for this mission. “Yes, sir.”

“I’m going,” Rex said, “so that’s one less.”

Cody nodded. He’d expected as much. “Me, too.” 

“I think not, Commander,” Kenobi said sternly. 

“Excuse me?” Cody turned to look at his General. On the edges of his peripheral vision, he saw Rex and Skywalker start moving toward the exit.

“You’re injured.” Kenobi explained as if to a small child. “You’re not going on a distraction mission.”

“You can barely breathe,” Cody shot back, irritated, pain flaring behind his cheekbones.

Kenobi waved a hand as if that was a trivial matter easily excused. “I will be fine.” 

Cody knew he really had no leg to stand on to win this argument. Literally. “Sir.”

“Cody,” the General responded, coming to sit next to him on another empty box. His shoulders drooped, betraying how weary he was. “A stim and the next couple hours in meditation will be enough for me to complete this mission,” he said almost gently. “You cannot walk on that ankle. And let’s not pretend you’re not also fighting a wicked headache and a low-grade fever.” He held up his hand to forestall Cody’s protest. “Yes, you could probably beat those down with analgesics. But we don’t have the resources here to make it so you could lead a squad and not permanently damage your ankle. Besides, I need you here to coordinate the move to the LZ. Rex will lead one squad. Wooley can take the other, if he’s up for it.” He punctuated his order with another harsh cough that left him slumped in on himself.

“Sir.” Cody paused. He sighed. “I don’t suppose it would do me any good to log a formal protest.”

Kenobi grinned weakly. “You know that Anakin and I are the only ones that can reliably get to those guns without being noticed. Truly, if there were any other options,” he said, sounding as tired as he looked. 

“Yes, sir,” Cody conceded with another sigh, this one ending on a soft cough of his own. 

“Do we have enough men healthy enough?” Kenobi asked.

Cody nodded, finally giving in and taking off his bucket and rubbing at his face, trying to ease some of the pressure behind his eyes and cheekbones. “Even if we don’t, Torrent does on their own. Not that it would stop any of our boys from signing up if it means helping to save their brothers.” They still had five men in critical condition in the medical tent, and their supplies were starting to run low. 

Kenobi’s comm beeped, and he engaged it, miniature holo-Rex in the palm of his hand. “General Kenobi,” Rex said. “Echo and Kabe are on it, and they estimate an hour to review our intel, and another two to come up with a working plan.”

“Thank you, Captain. We’ll reconvene in four hours. Get some rest. And tell Anakin as well.”

“Yes, sir,” Rex’s holo blinked out. 

“Find the volunteers and start the evac plan,” Kenobi ordered, accepting the use of Cody’s forearm as a brace to ease himself slowly into a standing position, taking a second to arrange his robes. “And then try to get a couple of hours of rest yourself. I’d like to be on the move in the hours before dawn, if possible, to increase our chances of surprise.” He started heading toward the back of the command tent.

Cody didn’t say anything about the fine tremor he felt in Kenobi’s hand as he levered himself up. “Yes, sir,” he said instead as he rose. “General - Obi-Wan,” he said. He’d been given permission to use the General’s first name when they were alone, but it felt strange on his tongue. 

The General paused and turned back, an eyebrow raised in question. Cody had never actually used the General’s given name before.

Cody fished in his utility belt and withdrew a packet of spiced Mandalorian tea and a citrus flavored hard candy. He limped the few steps to the General and offered the small gift. “Udesiir, Alor,” he said quietly, placing them into Kenobi’s hand and folding the General’s fingers over them. He hoped that the man could rest enough to do what he planned. 

“Thank you, Cody.” With his free hand, Kenobi knocked his knuckles against Cody’s shoulder, then continued to shuffle to the back of the tent, raising his comm to call Honeycutt. 

**

Three hours before dawn, Echo and Kabe had finalized their plans to disrupt the droid communications without jamming, and Cody had assembled the two squads, drawn up the evacuation plan, and managed a two hour nap. The  _ Resolute _ had been contacted and they were ready to send down the LAATs as soon as the guns were disabled. 

When Kenobi slipped off into the pre-dawn haze, the combination of the stim shot and the meditation had worked, though Kenobi had still pulled the hood of his cloak up over his head and wrapped himself in the folds of his robe as he set off with Wooley, Rex, Skywalker, and their squads of volunteers. 

As soon as they were off, Cody gave the order to break camp and make ready to move. Those that were able moved quickly, and those that weren’t were made ready to move on litters. Honeycutt offered Cody a stim, which he accepted, even though he really hated the come-down. But it washed away the headache and the various aches, which let him focus on his task, and would hopefully get him through the evac. There was little they could do about his ankle other than wrap it tight and modify the staff he’d been using to be more like a crutch. He refused to be carried when he was (mostly) perfectly capable of walking. 

Thanking the Force for small mercies, they made it to the LZ without incident and earlier than Cody had planned on, based on how quickly they’d be able to move. Neither the scouts or the rear guard had noted any pursuit or patrols, and Cody ordered everyone into standby mode as they waited for word that the guns were down and the LAATs were on the way. 

Several things happened at once. Distant explosions sounded and Cody’s comm rang through with the signal for the  _ Resolute _ to deploy shuttles. Cody ordered his men to form up for easy boarding, though he had hardly gotten the words out before they were complying, eager to get off planet and regroup. The injured went to the front of the lines, and Cody hung back, accounting for everyone except the attack squads as sonic booms announced the presence of their rescuers. 

The first wave of LAATs landed, and Waxer, Boil, Jesse, and Hardcase herded their brothers on board. The crafts touched down only long enough for men to climb or be assisted aboard before they were airborne again, trying to make full use of the narrow window they’d been allotted. 

Between the second and third wave of shuttles, the attack squads emerged from the treeline that had provided some concealment for the landing craft. Fives was hobbling between Rex and Echo, but Cody counted helmets, and everyone was accounted for, surrounding General Skywalker who was partly carrying but mostly dragging a barely conscious General Kenobi. 

“Honeycutt! Radar!” Cody called, and gestured them to the returning squads. Kix had gone up with the worst of the wounded on the first wave of shuttles. Cody could hear the shuttle pilots coordinating flights over the command channel in his bucket, but he tuned most of it out, out of long practice. Honeycutt and Radar relieved Skywalker of the burden of Kenobi. 

“Stim wore off,” Skwalker said as they settled Kenobi on the ground and waited for the last shuttles to arrive. “He’s exhausted, physically and in the Force. He drained himself.” 

Cody had the feeling that Kenobi had been relying more on the Force in the last two weeks than he’d let on, so he wasn’t surprised, really. 

The only person Cody had ever admitted it to was Rex, and that was after several drinks at ‘79s. The first time General Kenobi had collapsed in the field, Cody had panicked. It was shortly after they’d been paired together, and he somehow thought he’d managed to kill his Jedi. It turned out the man was just exhausted, both physically and in the Force, due to overextending himself. Honeycutt had needed to consult with the Healers at the Temple, but had come away with a guide for non-Force sensitive medics for dealing with Force-adepts. It had quickly been disseminated amongst the medical and command staffs of the GAR. He knew now that the medics had the information they needed to deal with stubborn Jedi who didn’t know how to give up. 

As the last shuttles touched down, Cody began to feel the effects of the stim wear off. His headache returned in force, and his hands started to tremble. “C’mon, ori’vod,” Rex said, taking most of his weight until Waxer came up on his other side, taking the weight fully off his injured ankle just as Cody began to feel as if his strings were cut completely. 

He didn’t black out, but the trip back to the  _ Resolute _ and the escort to Medical passed in a haze. Cody was set up in a bed and given fluids, nutrients, antibiotics, and painkillers while his ankle was tended to. The pain in his face finally eased and he drifted into a natural sleep, exhausted and free of pain for the first time in far too long. 

When he woke, his foot was encased in a soft boot, and he was told to stay off of it for 24 hours to let the bones finish knitting together, so he was there when the General was pulled out of the bacta tank, and then when he woke an hour or so later. 

Kenobi’s color still wasn’t great, but his breathing was easier, and his eyes were quick to focus on Cody in the bed next to his. “Alright, Cody?”

Cody rolled his eyes, figuring it’d be forgiven this once. “I’m not the one that was on the brink of death, sir.” 

The General made a noise like a scoff which turned into a coughing fit. 

Cody looked to Honeycutt who came through with a datapad. “Normal post-bacta, especially when it was the lungs being treated,” Honeycutt explained to them both. Not giving the Jedi time to protest, he administered two quick hyposprays. “Muscle relaxant, because that’s gonna hurt for a bit, and pain killer.” 

Kenobi looked like he wanted to protest, but the drug hit his system and the tight lines around his mouth and eyes faded slightly. “Just this once,” he mumbled, as his eyes slid closed. It was just another moment and he was asleep.

Cody began to feel sleep pull at him as well. “Everyone else?” he asked of his medic.

“Healing well and being well looked after,” Honeycutt assured him. “Get some rest, Commander. It’s all in hand.”

  
Cody slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> udesiir, alor = in this context, find some peace/get some rest, boss  
> ori'vod = big brother


	5. Obi-Wan Kenobi Enjoys Small Comforts

> _ Obi-Wan prefers tea to caff as a stimulant. Herbal teas in the evening. Cocoa for comfort. Plain for small upset, cinnamon for larger (failed exams, bad sparring, friend with healers). Tea definitely when ill, but if just cold, chilli to cocoa seems to help jump his metabolism. There’s a small pot next to the cocoa container in the cupboard.  _
> 
> _ [edit]: spiced teas have also helped. There was a Mandalorian blend he was fond of, before we had to secure the Duchess off planet.  _

* * *

Cody was exhausted. Hells, they all were. Even Waxer’s unbeatable spirit seemed to have dimmed and the jokes had fallen away. They’d lost so many and kept fighting on, leaving brothers where they fell in pursuit of some small objective that Cody couldn’t make sense of.

But good soldiers followed orders. 

They were back aboard  _ The Negotiator _ , in stand-down, with the troops turned loose to shower (they’d all been issued a ration for a water shower), eat, and sleep, with no duty postings starting for 12 hours. 

The General had disappeared as soon as they’d touched down back aboard, and Cody had focused on making sure his surviving troops were looking after themselves and each other. There hadn’t been time for remembrance before they’d left the planet and the fallen behind. He’d checked in with Honeycutt in Medical, made sure to speak to each of his captains and lieutenants, and waited for the deck to clear before he made his way to his small quarters and private ‘fresher. 

Clean and dry, and in fresh blacks, Cody eyed his bunk longingly. But he also knew he was running on empty, and if he didn’t eat, he’d wake up with one hell of a headache, and he didn’t think he could stomach another ration bar when there was fresh food available. Slipping into his boots but foregoing the rest of his armor, he made his way to the mess most frequented by his troops (the shipboard crew had their own quarters and mess facilities). 

Those troops that hadn’t decided to sleep first were eating with the quiet heaviness of exhaustion and loss. A few had queued up to the serving line with multiple trays, preparing to take food back to the bunks for themselves and brothers. Many were sitting close together, shoulder to shoulder, and in Waxer and Boil’s case, Boil’s head on Waxer’s shoulder looking asleep while Waxer finished his meal. Cody nodded as Waxer caught his eye and signed a quick ‘all good,’ with his free hand. The boys were looking after each other, and everyone would be okay, in time. Grabbing a tray, Cody made a mental note to check with the squad leaders to make sure the shinies were coping. After he’d slept.

The food was the same as it always was, field cooking for masses, nutritionally balanced but not necessarily prepared with flavor or texture in mind. There was fresh caff, though, which for Cody made up for quite a number of culinary shortcomings. That, and the available assortment of spice blends, hot sauces, and other condiments that the General had somehow managed to procure. That request was not one that Cody had processed with the other requisition forms. He wasn’t even sure it was requisitioned, or something that Kenobi had taken upon himself to provide. Either way, Cody knew the  _ vode _ were grateful. 

Cody slid into an empty seat near Waxer and Boil, happy to be off his feet for a few minutes, fearing that, like Boil, he might fall asleep over his food. His back was to the door, so he didn’t see when the General came in, and as tired as everyone was, the atmosphere didn’t change in reaction to his presence. Cody himself didn’t look up until the kick to his shin. He pulled his gaze up to Waxer, who nodded toward the drinks station. 

Kenobi had forgone the food line, which wasn’t totally abnormal, but what was out of place was the heavy brown robe draped around the General. He didn’t normally wear it on board; it wasn’t unusual to see him without the armor while they were on ship, but the robe was a rare sight. 

Cody frowned. The General prepared a cup of tea and started making his way around the mess, checking in with any of the  _ vode _ that looked up from their trays or greeted him. Cody watched - the cup that Kenobi had prepared was never lifted to his lips as he made his rounds; instead, it was clutched in his hands, both hands wrapped securely around it as if to keep his hands warm. 

The clones ran hot, due to their increased metabolism, and so they didn’t feel the chill of space as much as the natural born officers (though there were few of them), but Kenobi didn’t usually seem to be affected by the temperature on board, which Cody always found comfortable. 

When the General turned in his direction, Cody could see the worn, tired look on his face. There were shadows under his eyes, and now that he looked for it, Cody could see a slight tremble in the Jedi’s hands. Cody doubted he’d stopped moving since they’d returned aboard. 

Cody caught Waxer’s eye again - the lieutenant was mostly done eating, but he caught Cody’s glance and quick hand signal. Snag Kenobi’s attention and keep him there. Waxer nodded, and nudged Boil into something closer to consciousness, while Cody took his tray to the cleaning station, and then went to track down Salt. 

One of the things that Kenobi had done that had endeared the men to him was provide Cody with a small slush fund for luxuries for the troopers. Cody used it to buy sweets, drink mixes, and other small savory treats. He gave stashes to each of the captains, left one with the medics, and another with Salt in the mess. The medics used them for incentives, and Cody left it up to the others for how they were distributed. He kept his own small collection, but in this particular case, it was faster to beg from Salt than return to his quarters and risk the General disappearing again. 

“Salt, you back here?” Cody called as he stepped through to the prep area of the galley. 

“What do you need, Commander?” the sergeant in charge of the galley responded, apron over his blacks. 

“A cocoa packet, if you still have any,” Cody answered. They kept caff brewing all hours, and there was always hot water and tea available. The cocoa they kept rationed. 

Salt narrowed his eyes. “For you?”

“The General,” Cody responded. “I’ve got Waxer sitting on him, but I don’t know for how long until he gives us the slip again.”

“On it,” Salt answered without further question and spun away, returning a minute later with a packet. 

Cody grabbed a clean mug off the wash line and added the powder, tossing the packet. “Thanks, Salt. Let me know if there’s anything you want for the stash next time I’m able to restock.” 

“No problem, Commander. Take care of the General.” Salt turned back to his domain, shouting at someone. 

Cody returned to the mess and found Kenobi sitting with Waxer and a more conscious Boil, hands still wrapped around the mug. They were talking quietly, not disrupting the atmosphere of the mess hall as troopers began to finish eating and tiredly make their way out, back to bunks or more likely, nests of brothers on the floors. 

Mug in hand, Cody made his way back around to the drink station to fill it with hot water. From the condiment bar next to it, he selected a milder chili pepper blend and shook in a couple of pinches worth before giving it a stir, making sure the powder had completely dissolved. He filled another mug with hot water and an herbal tea blend for himself, liberally dosing it with honey before making his way back over to where Waxer was nudging Boil to standing and taking their leave from the General. 

“Cody,” Kenobi greeted quietly. The mug in front of him was no longer steaming. 

“General.” Cody sat and slid the mug with chocolate across the table. “Have you eaten, sir?”

The General glanced at the mug between his hands and the fresh one steaming just in front of him, then back up at Cody’s face. “I had a ration bar before I commed the Council after we landed.” 

Cody nudged the cocoa closer. “Anything new I need to know?” He took a sip from his own mug, letting the sweet warmth wash through him. Hells, he was tired. 

Kenobi finally relinquished his grip on the mug to reach for the fresh one, which he actually lifted to his face. He sniffed it delicately, shot Cody a suspicious look, but sipped. Cody wasn’t sure he imagined it, but thought he saw the General’s shoulders drop a fraction. He shook his head as he swallowed. “No. Just updating our status. As expected, we’re to head to resupply station Theta where we will rendezvous with Anakin and the 501st before receiving our next orders.” 

Cody nodded, and his eyes slipped closed as he sipped at his tea again. 

“Did  _ you _ eat, Cody?” Kenobi asked, keeping his voice low.

“Yes, sir,” he responded. He blinked his eyes back open, though it seemed to take a monumental effort. Maybe he should have had another caff instead of the herbal tea. He fought the urge to shift as he saw the General watch him over the rim of his cup. “Sir?”

Kenobi shook his head, and they continued to drink in companionable quiet as the last stragglers to finish their meals began to leave, and the lull before those who opted for sleep first began streaming in. The mess was never truly empty or closed, but Cody appreciated it like this, quiet, but with others around making it feel like he wasn’t alone in the universe like it could get in his cramped office or his private bunk (he knew that that night, he’d be welcomed into one of the piles in the officer’s quarters). 

“Thank you, Cody,” Kenobi said quietly after several long minutes. 

Cody blinked his eyes open slowly again, not having completely realized he’d closed them. The General looked slightly more relaxed; the tight line of his shoulders seemed less sharp, even under the robe, and his clutch on the mug seemed less desperate and more casual. “Sir?”

“Get some rest,” the General said as he stood, collecting the empty mugs, as well as the tea long gone cold he’d been carrying. 

“You too, sir,” Cody responded somewhat automatically, realizing only after he stepped away that Kenobi hadn’t answered his question. It took him another few moments to shove himself to his feet and make his way to the officer’s bunk. 

His code let him in, and the space was dark save for one light just over the door. In the shadows, he could make out the nest of pillows, blankets, and brothers in the spaces between the beds. 

“Knew you wouldn’t be far behind,” Waxer mumbled, half awake, as he shifted slightly, making room for Cody in the warm pile of bodies. Grateful, Cody kicked off his boots and slid in, revelling in the warmth and life of his brothers around him as he fell quickly to sleep.


	6. Obi-Wan Kenobi has Visions

> _ Obi-Wan is stronger in the unifying Force, which predisposes him to visions, both sleeping and waking.  _
> 
> _ No food, only water if he has visions. Force I’m glad I’ve never been disposed to such things, I’ve never seen someone throw up so much before. Thankfully, his visions vary by degrees, from ‘blink and it’s over’ to minutes-long fugue-like states, as well as those that come to him as dreams. Shorter/less intense visions take less of a physical toll. _
> 
> _ [edit] weakly steeped herbal tea or broth are also acceptable.  _
> 
> _ [edit2] use stims with caution. Short term, they can help OW get back on his feet if needed. However, the side effects can make it hard to distinguish further physical injury or mental stress. If not mission critical, natural recovery is best from more intense visions. _
> 
> _ [edit3] set aside additional meditation time if not in residence. Visions can spike his anxiety, and he won’t always ask for the time when he needs it.  _

* * *

The General was in the midst of the fight, blue blade striking down wave after wave of droids between deflecting shots, allowing the troopers to drag the wounded off the line and re-establish their perimeter. 

Cody was issuing orders between blaster shots when he saw the lightsaber still, and then the blue blade vanished, though the droids and enemy blaster fire kept coming. “Cover the General,” he shouted, and watched as members of Ghost Company rushed forward, setting up around Kenobi and providing cover fire. 

“Waxer, is he conscious?” Cody barked. 

“He’s in some kind of trance, Commander. His eyes are glazed over and he’s staring out at nothing. We’re bringing him back,” Waxer reported. 

“Negative,” Cody ordered. “Recover his ‘saber and set up defensive formation. Don’t move him until he’s fully aware. And he’ll probably be nauseous, but will insist he’s good to go. Do your best to get him back here.”

“Understood, Commander.” Waxer’s end went quiet for a moment before the connection chirped back to life. “Incoming!” 

Cody glanced up sharply, his HUD scanning, but seeing nothing. “Waxer? Report!”

“Sorry, sir. I’m sending one of the Shinies back. Bad choice of words,” Waxer apologized. 

Behind his helmet, Cody rolled his eyes. “Understood.” He had just enough time to issue a set of orders before being approached by a trooper in unpainted armor and give a glancing thought to assigning Waxer to KP for nearly giving him a heart attack.

“Sir!” The trooper held out Kenobi’s lightsaber. “The Lieutenant said you were to hold on to this.”

It was good thinking on Waxer’s part. “Thank you, Trooper. Return to your squad.”

“Yes, sir.” 

Cody clipped the lightsaber to his belt; he’d recovered it often enough that he’d requisitioned what he’d needed for a secure clip on his belt from the Jedi quartermaster. The officers knew that, so it was a smart choice for Waxer to make; not only would Kenobi expect Cody to have his weapon, with Cody off the line, there was a reason to get the General off the field as well.

It was only a matter of moments before Ghost Company started picking their way back toward Cody, blasters firing as they negotiated the ground backwards, the General propped slightly against the shoulder of Boil, who was firing one handed while supporting the General with the other. They paused in their retreat as the General doubled over, then resumed a moment later. 

Cody commed one of the medics to bring him a medkit and an ice pack, then checked to make sure that preparations were being made for the next phase of the assault. 

Boil sat the General on a stack of crates where Cody had set up his command station. He nodded at Cody, then rejoined his unit. The sounds of the fighting were dying down as they started mopping up the stragglers and Cody received reports of secure positions. 

The General looked shaky and pale as he closed his eyes for a moment, then turned and heaved, bringing up what little was left in his stomach. It wasn’t much, but he still kicked dirt over it before slumping back in his makeshift chair. “Status, Commander.” He ordered, his normally smooth voice hoarse.

“Mopping up now, sir,” Cody reported, accepting the med kit, fresh canteen, and ice pack from Radar, Honeycutt’s corpsman. “All squadrons reporting in. Minimal casualties. Worst was Tad - blaster shot skid across his armor and got him in the arm. He’ll be okay.”

Kenobi turned and retched again, spitting bile when nothing else came up. Cody handed over the canteen. The General looked a little green, but took it and sipped slowly. “Any word from Anakin or Master Plo?”

“Nothing sir, which means so far everything is going according to plan.”

“You had to say that, Cody,” Kenobi joked somewhat weakly. “What’s the timeline look like?” His voice was hoarse and tired. He breathed shakily, lifted the canteen, paused, then put it back down, looking pale. 

“We are on schedule.” Cody acknowledged. They were to circle around and join up with elements of the 104th and 501st for a combined forward assault to take out the supply depot. “Heavy artillery is coming around and as soon as we’re done here, we’ll start the move.” 

“Then I best get a move on,” Kenobi said, attempting a light hearted tone and failing. 

“In ten minutes, if you haven’t puked, you can have a stim. Ten minutes after that, if you haven’t puked, you can get up,” Cody said, breaking open the ice pack and placing it on the back of the General’s neck. “Until then, you’re staying here where I can keep an eye on you.” 

“Cody,” the General started to protest, pausing to swallow rapidly several times before he gave up and turned to the side and gagged again. 

“Ten minutes, General,” Cody said, not unkindly. 

Kenobi nodded and sighed, tipping his head back and letting his eyes slip closed.

With half an eye on his General, Cody continued to coordinate the advance of the 212th. Though he’d fight it, Cody found a place for the General to ride during the march - his color hadn’t returned, and they still had a major offensive ahead of them. The General would be needed for the fight, and Kenobi would push himself into the ground to make that happen. So if Cody could find him a ride, and maybe a breath mint, he’d feel better about letting him do it.


	7. General Kenobi is Fine, But Obi-Wan Kenobi is Not Okay

“General Kenobi? Sir?” Cody called quietly into one of the darkened training rooms. Only the standby lights were on, casting the room in degrees of shadow. But this is where Kenobi’s comm led.

There was no answer, but the door had slid shut behind Cody, and in the silence following his voice, he heard heavy glass against the training room floor, and saw a silhouette move against the shadows. 

“General?” Cody wished he had his bucket so he could use the nightvision feature. Still, there was no verbal response, but he moved toward the barely there sound of fabric rustling. He tried another approach. “Obi-Wan?”

A soft sigh. “Here, Cody.” The voice was quiet, weary, and gave a clue as to who exactly he was working with. Apparently the Jedi was done being a leader for the time being. 

Cody’s eyes adjusted quickly as he moved toward the sound, eventually picking out Kenobi’s form against a stack of training mats pushed up against the bulkhead. He had taken off his boots and spread his cloak underneath him like a blanket where he sat with his knees pulled up to his chest, a bottle of something next to him on the deck. 

Accepting the General’s acknowledgement as permission, Cody folded himself down next to him, mirroring Kenobi’s position with his knees bent and back against the bulkhead. 

Ken- no, Cody corrected himself mentally, this was clearly Obi-Wan, lifted the bottle to his mouth and took a drink, before passing it over. Hesitating only briefly, Cody accepted, taking a tentative sip. The alcohol was warm and burned slightly as he swallowed, but it was slightly sweet with the flavor of spiced apples. He passed the bottle back - it was not quite half full. 

“Did you know,” Obi-Wan began, his voice lower than normal, Core accent slightly more pronounced. “That my master was considered one of the finest diplomats in recent memory of the Jedi?”

Cody blinked. The General had never spoken of his training, though he had made plenty of sarcastic remarks about where he’d gone wrong with Skywalker. “No, sir.” He added the honorific by habit rather than purpose.

Obi-Wan snorted. “Not sir, not here. I’m so tired of being the General.” He sighed and took another drink. “It’s a title I never asked for. I’m tired of being the one that sends good men off to die, that makes decisions that leaves planets in ruins, that feels like he’s drifting further and further from his codes every Force-forsaken day.” The last came out harsh and bitter. 

“If there was no war, what would you be doing?” Cody asked, keeping his voice soft while he tapped out a quick message to Wooley on his wrist comm.  _ General found. Stand down. DND emergency only _ , and set it to vibrate.

“Training another Padawan,” Obi-Wan answered, a new wistful note in his voice. “Teaching lightsaber forms to Initiates. Holding seminars in Galactic Law with Senior Padawans. Get sent out on diplomatic missions a few times a year.” He sighed. “I’d get to be a _ Jedi _ ,” he said, fiercely emphasizing the last word. “Not this....bastardized version we’ve become, chipping away at the light and letting the dark seep in.” 

Cody’s comm vibrated twice, indicating positive receipt of his message to Wooley. 

“You know what path my Master set me on?” Obi-Wan asked, continuing. “Peacekeeper.” He made a derisive noise. “Guardian. He trained me to be a diplomat and a warrior for peace and justice, and I’ve used that training to hunt down Dark Jedi and send innocent beings to their deaths.” He took another pull from his bottle. 

It was the second time that he’d mentioned deaths of innocents, and Cody could only assume that Umbara was weighing heavily on the General’s mind, for all that it was months in the past and absolutely no one in the 212th or the 501st blamed him for Krell’s actions. Their recent actions had seen moderate casualties, and Cody couldn’t think of what might have triggered this line of thinking. 

“Sir - Obi-Wan,” Cody corrected himself quickly, before the other man could protest. He took a breath. “Are you alright?” he asked softly, like it wasn’t obvious with the man drinking alone in the dark. 

“Cody,” Obi-Wan answered, “I don’t think I’ve been okay for a long time.”

The straightforwardness of the response was heartbreaking, especially coming from the man that Cody looked up to as _ ori’vod  _ as well as  _ alor. _

The silence that followed was weighted, and Cody accepted the bottle that was passed back to him, taking a bigger mouthful than his first, using the action to stall and consider his response to that declaration. 

“Can I tell you what I think?” Cody asked slowly, and continued without waiting for Obi-Wan to respond. “I think you’re exhausted. I think you’re lonely and you don’t know how to admit it. I think you’re scared that you’re slipping the same way Krell did, the way Dooku fell. And I think that you want nothing more than this war to be over because it’s slowly killing you inside.

“I think this war is killing you,” Cody continued. “Because you’re kriffing good at it, and you hate that about yourself, because it goes against everything you believe, as a man and as a Jedi. You win more than you lose, but even wins mean loss of life, and that’s just not acceptable for you. You trained as a warrior, but not for this type of war. Not like we were.” 

Cody paused again, could feel the weight of Obi-Wan’s gaze on him. “But can I tell you what I  _ know _ ? I know that the officers call you  _ alor _ , and they know you would do anything to keep your men safe, even though they feel like it should be the other way around. You encourage the men to pursue hobbies and create training classes and share interests with each other on their downtime, and treat them like individuals, not like droids. They are willing to die for you, for your orders, not only because that’s what they were taught, but because you’ve earned that loyalty and respect.

“I know that I’m less Force sensitive than some rocks, but there is no darkness in you,” Cody continued, resolved. “You take no joy in giving the orders that have the potential to send men to their deaths. I know that you do take joy in helping train Ahsoka, and that after the war, any Padawan would be lucky to have you as a teacher.”

Next to him, Obi-Wan shifted, and Cody heard the dull thud of his head against the mats. When the bottle was passed his way again, Cody skipped his turn and put it on the deck on his opposite side, away from Obi-Wan. 

“I’m tired, Cody,” Obi-Wan admitted into the darkness after a moment of silence. “I’m tired of the war. I’m tired of losing people. I’m tired of worrying about Anakin and whether or not I’ve done a good enough job training him. For all that we didn’t agree on everything, I miss the counsel of Master Qui-Gon, and Master Yoda. I’m tired of feeling like this war is never going to end.” His sigh was shuddering. “I’m tired of carrying it all alone,” he whispered. 

“You don’t have to, and you aren’t alone,” Cody risked saying. “We can’t take those burdens from you, but we can help you carry them.”

“You shouldn’t have to do that, any of you,” Obi-Wan started to protest. 

Cody stretched out an arm and found Obi-Wan’s, gripping his gauntlentless forearm. “Obi-Wan,” he said plainly, emphasizing the General’s name. “ _ Gar shuk meh kyrayc,”  _ he said, falling back on one of the phrases Jango had given them, trying to imbue the phrase with meaning. The 212th would survive without General Kenobi, but the men wouldn’t be the same without Obi-Wan. 

“ _ Ni ven’atiniir,” _ Obi-Wan responded dryly, an edge of fatalism to the words. Cody yanked his hand away from Obi-Wan’s arm as if the words physically burned him.

“But you don’t have to do it alone,” Cody responded, with more vehemence than he truly meant. “What good is surviving it if you lose who you are in the meantime? General Kenobi may survive, but what about Obi-Wan?” he asked more gently. “We need both parts of you - the General that comes up with strategies that should really have no chance of success but somehow do, and the man that knows his last two missing cloaks aren’t actually missing, but are down in the troop bunks being passed around as extra blankets.” 

Obi-Wan made a noise. “So the men carrying around snacks, and the sudden appearance of cocoa, and the uninterrupted hour in the morning. That’s not - “ he paused, like he was trying to find the meaning he was looking for. “Nannying?”

“No,” Cody responded. “If you asked any of them, they would ask back ‘ _Tion’ad hukaat'kama?_ ’ and then probably risk the court martial by calling you _di’kut_. It’s another way they show their respect, both on and off the battlefield. Sometimes having your back means making sure that you have what you need to do your duty so they can do theirs.” Cody was surprised that he somehow missed this element of Mandolorian culture, given everything else that he knew from the year he’d spent on Mandalore as a younger man. Or maybe it was something unique to the clones, influenced by Jango’s teaching and their own insular upbringing with no one but their batchmates to rely on. 

“Oh. I knew it was important to them - you - but I didn’t fully grasp why,” Obi-Wan explained. 

“They do it with me, too, and with each other,” Cody revealed. “But it’s maybe not as obvious to an outsider, someone who wasn’t raised as vode. And there are some liberties they wouldn’t dare take with you.”

“Oh?” Obi-Wan sounded interested. 

Cody grinned wryly into the dark. “Wooley has sliced into my quarters more than once to change my door code so I couldn’t get out when he thought I wasn’t sleeping enough. After my last concussion, Honeycutt reassigned Radar to follow me around and literally take any caff out of my hands. Waxer and Boil have been known to hide treats under the pillow of any brother having a rough day. You’ve seen the way we sleep in piles sometimes, and how everyone barters parts of meals to make sure everyone ends up with their favorites, even if they don’t realize it. It’s how we make sure we’re all okay, from the shiniest Shiny on up,” Cody explained. 

They were quiet for a few minutes as Cody let Obi-Wan process the new information. The silence between them grew, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Cody stretched his legs out flat in front of him, and he heard Obi-Wan move as well, saw the shadowed figure relax slightly, letting his knees fall open as he sat up into something more like a lotus position. 

“Thank you, Cody,” Obi-Wan said finally. “I think - I think I have a great deal to meditate about.” 

“You’re welcome, Obi-Wan.” Cody gathered himself to stand. “I’ll leave you to it.” He picked up the bottle as he gained his feet, intending to take it back to the General’s quarters. He left Obi-Wan in the training room, placing a do not disturb lock for privacy when the door shut behind him. 

At the end of his duty shift that evening, Cody returned to his quarters. On his bed sat two packets of a Mandalorian tea blend and a datapad. Curious, he switched on the ‘pad, and it opened to a note. 

_ Vor entye, al’verde. Udesiir bahl mar’eyir mirjahaal. OWK. _

The data pad held only two other files.  _ Guided Meditations for the Non-Force Sensitive _ and  _ Calming Ocean Sounds with Melody. _

Message received, General, Cody thought, as he prepared himself for bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ori'vod = older brother  
> alor = boss/leader  
> Gar shuk meh kyrayc = you're no use dead  
> Ni ven’atiniir = I'll survive  
> Tion’ad hukaat'kama? = Who's watching your back?  
> di'kut = idiot/useless person. literally, one who forgets their pants  
> Vor entye, al’verde. Udesiir bahl mar’eyir mirjahaal. = Thank you, Commander. Relax and find healing.
> 
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at knitwritezombie.


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